


Give It To Me

by angelthefunone



Series: Crimson Snow [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Ghoul!BTS, I can't write fight scenes for the love of me, Implied Cannibalism (Tokyo Ghoul), Min Yoongi | Suga-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 19:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18212669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelthefunone/pseuds/angelthefunone
Summary: Yoongi gets himself something more than just unwanted attention.





	Give It To Me

**Author's Note:**

> A repost. A look into the past of what made our cat-masked ghoul the scarred grouch that he is and we know in the main series.

No one messes with Min Yoongi.

Then again, he shouldn’t have messed with those tattooed men with automatic rifles he hunted down a couple months ago, either.

Korea didn’t have anything like those _Yakuza_ gang members that Japan did. There were gangs, sure—human _and_ ghoul ones—but none were as prominent as those lunatics were. He did a quick Google search on his phone—sure, he was too poor for other luxuries in life, but at least he had enough money to buy himself a phone, and borrowed wi-fi from local internet cafes and McDonald’s whenever needed—and he educated himself on the basics: the largest crime syndicates in Japan, controlling most of its criminal and illegal activities, with some sort of code of conduct and extreme respect amongst themselves.

And he realized right then and there that killing any one of them meant _big_ trouble for him. _Real_ big.

He found three of them in some shadowed alleyway and killed two of them, but the last one managed to escape his clutches scarred but alive, and it became one of his gravest mistakes because it meant someone from whatever ‘family’ they were part of had at least one person who could identify him. True, it was just from his clothes and his mask, and he could always discard it for a different one, but the mask had a sentimental meaning to him; it was one of the few belongings he brought with him from his hometown of Daegu, and the same one he used when he was still with his old gang D-Town, before unfortunate circumstances brought an end to the group and he had to relocate here. It reminded him of the good old days with his friends, and their memories still made his gut wrench in bitterness, so he wasn’t ready to let go of that just yet.

It brought more trouble for him, but at the time, he was sure he could handle it all on his own.

And that one survivor became the bane of his existence because within that same week, a group of mercenaries—could he even call them mercenaries when they were avenging the death of one of their own—sought him out and cornered him instead when he was trying to find someone to eat.

So he did whatever predator would when feeling threatened: he killed them, too.

But he wasn’t greedy—thinking back now, he should’ve been, though—and left their carcasses mutilated but half-intact. He was arrogant then, too, and as he placed his mask back on, he thought he would welcome the challenge presented to him now, part of him leaving the corpses identifiable to send a message out to the ‘family’ that he was a force to be reckoned with, that they didn’t want to mess with him.

This became the _second_ big mistake he’s made during the short period of time that he’s been here, because soon enough, it attracted the attention of yet another party for similar yet different reasons than just vengeance.

The Commission of Counter Ghoul.

He was walking down the street when he noticed a small crowd gathering in front of an electronics store, and his curiosity caught the better of him when his wandering eyes caught a glimpse of the television behind the display window, tuned to some local news channel. He stopped at the edge of the crowd, however, and widened his eyes when he saw himself, dressed in his usual hunting attire—black coat and black slacks—with his _maneki neko_ mask over his face, picture pixelated due to poor resolution of the device that captured it, eyes glancing up at a CCTV camera of some corner store.

He knew it was him and not some other random dude with dark clothes and a cat mask because he _remembered_ himself being there, turning his head up at the camera because he could just _feel_ it watching him, his arrogant self tilting his head and staring at it for a good few seconds, challenging anyone watching him through those lenses, just like a mischievous cat would, before he bolted down the street and out of the camera’s view.

The video was paused before he disappeared out of frame, zoomed out to reveal a female reporter informing the general audience of the new ghoul menace present in the ward, whom the CCG referred to as ‘Number 903’. The reporter also told people to be careful when wandering out on the streets during late nights, with this new ‘menace’ around—if a ghoul could take out people from a _Yakuza_ gang, it was likely he’d be a dangerous one, especially to the average citizen.

Yoongi frowned at the news report, eyes blankly staring at the screen for a few more seconds than necessary, his mind barely registering the gasps and hushed conversations that erupted from the crowd around him, all of them unaware that the perpetrator was in their midst. At that point, he’s been in Tokyo for just a little over a month—two weeks since he ate those fools—but the public media had already branded him as a criminal—a _wanted_ criminal, to say the least. Something along the lines of ‘A or S rated ghoul’ was mentioned in that report, too, which meant CCG investigators would no doubt be keeping an eye out for him—at least, from what they could identify from such an unclear image of him, and with his disguise and all.

It was a good thing that his figure was just about average for males in Tokyo—maybe a bit skinnier than the typical, but he didn’t have any abnormalities or anything like that, otherwise he would be in serious trouble.

But that news report, and his subsequent rise in prominence as the ghoul who killed off about five _Yakuza_ members within a span of less than two weeks, caught the attention of yet _another_ party, but this time seeking him for intentions _far_ different from any of the other two.

Yoongi was starving now—he’s been abstaining from hunting since that news report, hoping that attention on Number 903 would dissipate and he was free to operate and move around without gaining more notoriety for himself. He hadn’t eaten since he killed off those mercenaries either, and it was rare that ghouls go through more than a month without eating at all. He didn’t save any of the flesh from that last pseudo-hunt, so he was out of reserves, and if he didn’t hunt soon, he might have to resort to extreme measures.

He had to make a quick errand to a recording studio in downtown Tokyo to submit a copy of his demo—today was the deadline, too, so if he wanted to have any chance in hopefully landing a record deal, he would have to venture outside just this one time and return as quick as possible in an attempt to avoid the tempting smell of flesh and blood hidden beneath the skins of the humans around him. He had a cup of coffee earlier when he went out this morning, just to quell his stomach pains a little bit more until he could return back to his rented apartment in a more secluded, less inhabited part of the ward.

But he didn’t think that his hunger would come back sooner, this time more ravenous than before, enough to drive his pace quicker as he turned around a corner into a less-travelled narrow path in between buildings that served as a known shortcut he often took to get back home. It was good that there weren’t much people around, but there was just one row of buildings separating him from the crowded pavement beyond the brick walls beside him, which meant the smell of their flesh could still entice him even through the barriers, even more so the people _inside_ the buildings themselves.

It was driving him insane, and he had no idea how much longer he could last without snapping at the first sight of an unfortunate lone victim in these darkened pathways.

But of course, despite the incredible luck he possessed that took him this far into life, not everything always went his way.

“Hey, you.”

Yoongi ignored the unknown voice—a strange one, a mix between a high-pitched sounding male or a low-toned young woman—calling out to who he was assuming was himself. The source of the voice and the footsteps that followed were not too far behind him either, leaving Yoongi a bit surprised that he didn’t notice their presence earlier—a quick whiff of the air around them told him it was a ghoul, which sort of made sense since all Yoongi could think about was sinking his teeth into human flesh.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Yoongi quickened his pace, clutching his bag tighter to himself with his fists clenched. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with lesser ghouls seeking to stir up trouble with him right now. All he wanted was to just go home.

But this stranger was persistent. Yoongi heard the familiar sound of breaking skin and molding cells before the stranger could strike him with their _kagune_ , as he leaped and backflipped out of reach, his feet landing back on the ground with the gracefulness of a cat.

“Look, I’m just passing by, all right?” Yoongi scowled at the stranger behind him, turning his head ninety-degrees to the right to give them a sideways glance. Curiously, he couldn’t see this stranger’s appearance very well—the figure standing behind him was wearing a dark-red cloak with a hood over their head, their posture stiff and rehearsed, arms at their sides, a single _kagune_ tentacle waving behind them. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Oh, but I was looking for _you_ , Suga.”

Yoongi stiffened at the nickname; it was the name that the public media had given him, after one of the news reporters remarked that he had a Japanese bobtail cat, the same breed of the typical _maneki neko_ , named Suga, and ever since then, others had been associating that name to the mysterious ghoul with the cat mask who killed those _Yakuza_ men all those nights ago.

It was insulting. An utter, complete humiliation to his name. He was far from sugar, far from some stupid kitten owned by some feeble human who knew nothing about him. If he ever found that reporter, he’d have him stabbed into the wall and devour him whole.

“I’ve _been_ looking for you for some time now—we all have, as a matter of fact.”

_We?_

“Aogiri Tree has always been interested in taking in new recruits, build our army in the fight against those vile humans and the accursed CCG. To build a better world for all ghouls in Tokyo, and perhaps even beyond. And of course, for that to happen, we will need the strongest of the strongest to come work f— _with_ us, to make our organization strongest than ever.”

 _Aogiri Tree_ , Yoongi thought, unable to resist scowling under his breath. _Of course. Makes sense_.

“And I’m here to recruit you, Suga,” the man continued, intentionally making his tone somewhat more trustworthy, though Yoongi knew it was all but a ruse. Not with how he treated him and called him out just moments earlier. “Well, _we_ are here to recruit you—of course, I’m not that stupid to seek you out myself, not with what you’re capable of. Though I hope that we don’t end up having to resort to using brute force on you—wouldn’t wanna bruise you before our superiors can take a real good look at you, at what you can do. Therefore, I do suggest that you come with us on your own will—though, I can’t imagine what reason you’d have to _not_ to accept such a generous offer.”

Yoongi wanted nothing more than to turn around and spit straight at this man’s face and tell him to fuck off. As if he’d be interested in such a proposal; he was well aware of the hideous truth Aogiri Tree was hiding from the rest of the ghoul world, the horrors that happened behind the walls of its headquarters and numerous bases all scattered throughout Tokyo. The horrific deeds they’ve done throughout their history, the way they recruited the unwilling ones and forced them to join their group.

His friend had been one of their victims, too. A fellow Korean ghoul who hailed from Daegu just like he was, and they’d typically keep tabs on each other every now and then ever since encountering each other for the first time in Tokyo. His entire group had been absorbed into the organization against their will, and the first chance he got to slip out of Aogiri’s fingertips, his friend told him of the horrors he experienced there—the weaker you were, the more fucked up you’ll be. And to be honest, his friend looked like he’s been through shit, hell and back, with cuts and bruises lining up his arms and legs, his posture bowed down out of habit. He’s never been the most skillful of individuals, Yoongi thought, but he’s a good man.

 _Was_ a good man.

Yoongi received a letter later that month. It was from his friend, telling him that he might be able to escape from Aogiri’s walls and might seek refuge at Yoongi’s place if he allowed it, and that he was going to do so that night. He also told him that he appreciated him as a friend despite the short time they’ve known each other, wanting to express his gratitude in the case he didn’t make it out of there alive.

No one came to the apartment that night. And the night that followed, and the night after that, and the night after that.

Yoongi didn't want to turn out like his friend did. If this stranger intended to recruit him, he'll join them the day Hell freezes over.

"Not interested," he said, blunt and concise, his intentions made clear to the unwelcome stranger while sparing him no chance to respond as Yoongi restarted his brisk walk, his pace making a gradual increase in speed as he tried to put as much distance between him and the stranger and his comrades as much as he could before things went sour.

And the situation became vinegar indeed.

Yoongi was anticipating the attack; his hand was halfway out his bag when he felt air being cut through like a knife behind him and he whizzed out of the offending weapon's path, twisting around just in time to see a pulsing red _kagune_ slamming down onto the concrete where he just stood at, causing cracks to appear upon impact. He placed the mask in his hand onto his face and turned to face the stranger for the first time, red eyes behind white meeting red eyes behind white.

"Impressive," the stranger sneered, mock dripping from his voice. "But let's see you handle three."

As soon as he said that, two more shadowed figures sprung from the rooftops above them and landed on the ground right behind Yoongi, blocking his escape and trapping him between them and the stranger.

Yoongi's stomach growled again, causing him to scowl and clench his jaw behind the mask. _Dammit, I don't have time for this._ The longer he lingered, the worst his hunger would get, and as much as he would _love_ to teach these kids a couple of lessons about messing with people they shouldn't mess with, he was starving, and with a lack of food in his systems, it meant that he was weaker—perhaps not weaker than them, but weaker than usual, and he had to deal with _three_ whole ghouls, all trained and well-fed, violent intentions in mind.

This was _not_ a good day to start a fight.

"I don't want to fight you," he tried, but of course, his blank pleas were met with brick walls.

"Neither do we," the stranger said, shrugging. "But it's either we return to headquarters with you, or we do not return at all. Don’t worry, our superiors wouldn’t mind if we brought you to them with just a few scratches and bruises, and maybe a flesh wound or two.”

Before Yoongi could say anything in return, the cloaked men sprung into action; the orange _kagune_ whipped out in his direction, aiming for his feet. Yoongi jumped up and dodged the attack once again, but the stranger didn’t cease his attack this time, grunting as he slashed his _kagune_ left and right, with Yoongi twisting and turning right and left, ducked and jumped at all the right moments, all the attacks missing but the sheer determination had Yoongi backing up towards the other two nameless ghouls behind him, cornering him.

This time, he jumped up and backflipped over the stranger, feet sliding against the concrete as he landed before he turned around and sprinted back up the alleyway, hoping to put as much distance between him and the Aogiri ghouls as possible.

“What the hell are you doing? Go after him!”

Yoongi clutched his bag closer to him, sprinting past different corners he could recognize at first until the local map of the area his memory had began to blur and he began to forget which corners he turned into, which was the way back home. He tried, however, to stay away from the main streets as much as possible, wanting to avoid the confrontation to involve humans, and possibly ghoul investigators; he sped through a small park, leaped down a flight of stairs and turned around a stone fountain, but halted in his steps when he saw two figures landing on the ground right in front of him, straightening their posture to reveal the white skull masks they wore.

 _Shit_. Yoongi hadn’t noticed the two had human weapons in their hands—guns, rifles to be specific—until the two Aogiri members brought them up and aimed the barrel at him. His biological instincts went into work quicker than his brain did; his Rc cells burst forth from the skin beneath his shoulder blades, shifting and transforming into twin flickering flames that stretched and curled forwards to shield Yoongi from the onslaught of bullets shot straight at him, hearing the metal pellets cluttering to the ground, unable to pierce the hardened cells.

When his wings parted back, his _kakugan_ eyes flared, crimson veins stretching beyond the black sclera and even his eyelids. A low growl emanated from beneath his mask as he launched himself forward, pouncing on one of the ghouls and kicking him down, pinning him on the ground with his bare hands as he whipped one of his wings towards the other ghoul, the single solid flame slamming against the body and sending him hurling towards the stone fountain, causing it to crack upon impact.  

He crystallized the other one, but instead of his usual methods of shooting the crystals as his own form of bullets, he looked down and stared at the face of the ghoul whose throat he had his hands around, stabbing his crystallized appendage straight into the cloaked ghoul’s chest, watching as the red eyes went shut and a deafening cry of agony came from behind the skull mask, shards exploding upon impact, hands clawing against the crystals until he went limp and the silence returned.

Yoongi’s stomach throbbed, beginning to cave in again. Which one hurt more, he thought? A _kagune_ pierced through his stomach, or the hunger pains?

Both were no different, he decided.

Yoongi retracted his _kagune_ , blood dripping from the tip of it until he returned it to its usual, more fluid form, fluttering behind him like a butterfly’s wings. He was too focused on regaining his breath and composure from the adrenaline pumping through his veins to fail sensing the incoming attack until it was too late, and in an instant, a different kind of pain ripped through his entire body.

He couldn’t resist crying out in agony, doubling over, falling down to his knees as he curled his _kagune_ forwards. When he looked up, he saw the giant hole burned into the center of his left wing, the flames disconnecting as his cells began to disintegrate at the injury. He saw another figure appearing in his field of vision—the stranger who approached him in the first place, his newfound stalker and now nemesis.

Yoongi heard his snicker from afar, however quiet it was, and there was nothing he yearned more at this moment than to silence it once and for all.

He was breathing through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing pain ebbing throughout the decaying Rc cells of his left wing which had been reduced from a butterfly’s to a mere moth’s; in his current starving state, it was impossible for him to heal on time to be able to face his opponent and squish him like the little ant he was in Yoongi’s eyes. The adrenaline pumping in his veins was fading, too, leaving him exhausted and drained—weak, vulnerable and in pain.

He was just about to gather himself back up to his feet when all of a sudden, something _hard_ connected with the side of his face, sending him flying then rolling across the cobblestone, stopping just a few metres away from the ghoul still lying against the fountain. His mask was askew now and he felt blood pooling inside his mouth, forcing him to spit it out, the crimson droplets landing right in front of a pair of dark boots that had halted beside him. Another snicker.

“Look at you,” the mocking high-toned voice returned before the boy’s _kagune_ shot forth once again and stabbed itself straight through Yoongi’s abdomen, much like the way he did with the cloaked ghoul’s fallen comrade. Yoongi’s gasps of pain was overshadowed by the other ghoul’s ringing laugh, taunting Yoongi and playing to his diminishing ego that was making a gradual, excruciating transition to an aching desperation to _just_ _stay alive_ , just long enough, with the _kagune_ still pulsing through the fresh wound it had inflicted through his stomach. “I figured you’d be better than this. Is that all it takes to defeat the all-powerful Suga? You went head-to-head against a couple of _Yakuza_ gangsters like it’s no problem at all, and yet a little boo-boo to your _kagune_ and a slap to the face have you groveling at my feet— _pathetic_. I thought you were stronger than this, Suga. Guess I was wrong.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispered through his clenched jaw, all the while trying to make controlled breaths through his nose in hopes to deal with the pain coursing through his entire body. “You.”

Instead of an immediate verbal response, the Aogiri leader shoved his _kagune_ deeper into the open wound, further pinning him Yoongi into the ground and inflicting more pain into his insides. It was no different than the hunger pains, Yoongi thought grimly, feeling his consciousness starting to fade, whatever shred of willpower he had left trying to keep himself from slipping into the darkness that was beginning to swallow him whole.

 _Is this it?_ His own demise—he laughed inside his own migraine-ridden head—derived from his own foolish, reckless mistakes.

Yoongi stared up at the darkened skies above, a little part of him yearning to see the blinking stars shining against the black backdrop that had been drowned out by Tokyo’s bright neon lights. The Aogiri mask then came into view—pitch-black eyes staring down at him through the eyeholes of the bone-white mask. Indistinct voices filtered into his ears, incoherent murmurs that Yoongi’s mind couldn’t process— _wouldn’t_ process—as he fought against himself to stay awake _just a little longer_ , fought against the tendrils of pain licking through every inch of his entire being.

He heard the Aogiri leader’s laughter one last time before he closed his eyes and gave in.

 

 

* * *

 

The apartment door was unlocked later than expected that night, keys clanging against the metal of the door knob before two clicks resonated and the wood swung open with a loud creak that resonated throughout the lifeless and otherwise silent apartment. A shadowed figure stood in the doorway but didn’t move for just a few seconds, before it stumbled and limped inside the living area, hand reaching out to slam the door shut.

It was warm here. _So warm._

He could still taste the remnants of blood from the corner of his lips, his tongue darting out to swipe it clean before it started to poke and prod at the gaps between his teeth, trying to pick out the little bits and shreds of flesh still wedged in them. He swallowed all that was left, still flinching at the taste at first but it slid down his throat in one smooth motion, calming down his throbbing stomach just a little more—but it still wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Red eyes blinked in the darkness of the room.

He was still hungry.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Make sure to check out the [main story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443370)!


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